


Things I Should Have Told You

by Kamaro0917



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/F, Pain Olympiad, get tissues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26269627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamaro0917/pseuds/Kamaro0917
Summary: "Dark times lie ahead of us and there will be a time when we must choose between what is easy and what is right." - Albus DumbledoreFor Fleur, that time has come.One-shot for Day 1 of #FleurmioneWeek2020
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Hermione Granger
Comments: 29
Kudos: 83
Collections: Fleurmione Week 2020





	Things I Should Have Told You

_My Dearest Hermione,_

_I thought that things would get easier with time, but I have never been so wrong. I’ve been holding on, even after all these years; holding out hope that one day you will return to me. And every day that goes by that you do not, it feels like another ton of sand has been added to the pile that has been burying me alive. It has been two years, five months, and sixteen days since we last spoke. 806 days since you last looked at me. Still, I would carry the weight of the world just to have one more moment with you. I would give anything to have you here with me once more._

_I know I am being extremely selfish and I hope that you can forgive me. I want you to know that I don’t say this to make you feel guilty. They say that this is part of the healing process. Somehow writing my feelings and regrets out in a letter will miraculously help me process everything. I think it’s bullshit and I don’t believe it, but I am out of other ideas so I’m giving it a shot. I know that I need to come to terms with the fact that you are not coming back to me and try to move forward. And that, ma cherie, is a nearly impossible pill to swallow, but I know I must. For both of our sakes. So here I am, writing a letter that you will never read in the hopes that it will somehow give me strength to do the right thing._

Fleur Delacour sighed and replaced her quill in the inkpot. She sat back in her chair, rereading the beginning of her current attempt at writing this damned letter. She must have looked like a madwoman surrounded by a pile of crumpled rolls of parchment, the discarded corpses of her previous efforts. But each time the words just didn’t seem right and she wanted to get it right. She had to. _‘So far, so good,’_ she thought to herself as she finished reading her tidy scrawl. Finally feeling satisfied, she tossed the parchment on the table and rubbed her tired eyes, leaning back in her chair. 

She flexed her hand, the stiff joints popping in protest, as she looked blankly out the window, her reflection staring back at her. She was startled by her uncharacteristically tired and unkempt appearance that not even her Veela grace could overcome. Her silvery blonde hair hung in limp, heavy strands and her crystal blue eyes looked hollow, lacking their usual bright shine. She noted that she had lost weight, her high cheekbones more pronounced, nose sharper, and her cheeks had thinned rather dramatically. Her skin was less vibrant after spending so much time inside, she made a vampire look tan. She was but a shell of the woman she had once been. Almost unrecognizable. She frankly didn’t care anymore. She shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to the parchment in front of her. She swallowed her pain and continued writing. 

“I need to do this. This is so I can do the right thing for Hermione,” she reminded herself.

_I never imagined this day would come. I thought we had all the time in the world to plan our life together. I was young and foolish and believed us to be invincible. I took our time for granted. I know that it’s silly to dream at this point and that I am just torturing myself by dwelling on the ‘what ifs,’ but I can’t help but wonder what our lives might have become had I had the courage to be the woman you deserved all those years ago._

_Would things be different now if I had approached you that first night in the Great Hall rather than let my concerns and insecurities get the better of me? Perhaps we could have become friends sooner if I had let you beyond my walls and told you everything and explained what you meant to me when I had the chance. Would you have allowed me to accompany you and the boys on your secret quest if I had told you that I loved you sooner? Could I have protected you while you tried to save the world or would I have been a distraction from your mission? If I had sought out a healer rather than try to nurse you back to health myself, could they have healed you properly? Would any of this have given us more time together or were we fated to end this way no matter what I did?_

A hot tear welled up in the corner of her eye, the moisture startling her as the salty drop slid down her cheek. Her heart clenched tight at the memory of seeing Hermione’s broken body, so weak and vulnerable after her days of torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. She had never felt so helpless, so desperate. Wondering if Hermione would make it through the night.

She paused with her quill hovering over the parchment and reached up and gathered the bead on the tip of her finger, looking at it curiously. After countless nights of crying herself to sleep, she didn’t realize she had any tears left to shed. A bittersweet pain filled her chest. It felt nice to know that she was still capable of feeling something. But the hurt tore open the old wounds and laid them bare once again. She swallowed down her emotions and carefully put up weak dam walls around her heart. She had to get through this. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t back out now. With a shaky breath she slowly lowered the quill tip to parchment and continued.

_Would we have started a family by now if I had asked you to marry me sooner? What color do you think our daughter’s eyes would have been? Her hair? When I close my eyes, I see her having my eyes and chin and your hair and nose. We would have had our hands full raising her if she was anything like me as a child, so energetic and with an attitude to boot. Of course she would have your love of learning and fierce determination, maybe to the point of stubbornness. Would she have learned to say ‘Mum’ or ‘Maman’ first? What would we have named her? Would we have stopped at one or would we have had two? Sisters like Gabrielle and myself?_

_I guess now we will never know. Life doesn’t give second chances._

_All I can do at this point is try to let these regrets go and instead remember and cherish the time we did have together. Do you remember our first date and my disastrous attempt to cook you dinner? I still can’t bring myself to paint over that burn mark on the ceiling. I was so embarrassed because I was trying to impress you. I remember how you just smiled and held my hand softly, and we went out for Muggle burgers instead. It turned out to be a fantastic night. Leave it to you to make the best out of a terrible situation._

_Sometimes I think back on our wedding day. I thought I had gone to heaven and was gazing upon an angel. You looked so beautiful standing there on the bluff overlooking the ocean. Your dress was simple but absolutely perfect and you had flowers in your hair. Your eyes were full of love and hope. On that day we spoke our vows for all of our friends and family to hear. Promises of the future, of a lifetime together. We spoke of the endless possibilities, where the only limit was our imagination._

_You have to admit, it was an amazing four years. We were so alive, traveling and experiencing life together. After the War I think we both needed it, just time for us before we officially ‘settled down.’ While we had our struggles as any couple does, we always worked through and came out on the other side together. We found true happiness together every day, and that is a rare thing. We were on top of the world. And then the world came crashing down around us. Our dreams and promises lay shattered and bare and there was nothing I could do to make it right. I tried, Goddess knows that I’ve tried every day since that harrowing day._

_To this day, you are still my rock, keeping me tethered to this world. You are the key to my heart and window to my soul. You are my sun, moon, and stars. Your eyes would sparkle whenever you were learning something new or advocating for the rights of those who did not have a voice to speak for themselves. Your passion and determination inspired me and gave me courage. Even though I haven’t seen it for years, I know that you could still brighten my day with a single smile and chase away all the darkness. Your laughter would fill my sails and make me believe I could take on anything. Any challenge, any obstacle I could meet it head on and prevail. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the same for you._

_I have been so extremely selfish holding on like I have, unable to face the reality. I hope that my decisions haven’t left you hurting, you suffered more than enough for a dozen lifetimes. You fought so hard and sacrificed so much, and deserve better than this. I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize this sooner. I pray that you’ve found your peace and that I haven’t drawn out your pain and suffering because of my weakness. I failed you and now there is only one option left for me to try to rectify my mistakes and make things right._

_I know it is asking the impossible and I have no right to make any further requests of you when you have given so much. I ask you to forgive me for finally letting you go. For you. For me. For us. Even though I am letting you go, I will never forget us and what we had together but it is time._

_You are my heart and soul, always and forever._

_Always yours,_

_Fleur Isabelle Delacour_

Fleur finished the letter and cast a quick-dry spell on the ink before carefully folding it and placing it in an envelope. She addressed the letter to Hermione and set it on the table, staring at it with somber reverence. While writing the letter hadn’t necessarily made her feel better, it did help actually putting it down in writing and admitting her feelings. It was out there and no longer bottled up, weighing her down and sinking her further into the dark abyss that had taken up residence inside her. It was a very small step in what she knew would be a marathon of an undertaking. But at least now she felt somewhat more prepared and at peace with herself.

She stood and stretched, her back stiff from being hunched over the table for so long. She took a deep breath of the sharp sterile air; the scent of cleaning products burned her sensitive nose. She hated it, but she had no other options. This was her reality. She couldn’t leave. Not yet. With a resigned sigh she turned and walked over to the single bed that contained the room’s other occupant. 

Hermione looked so peaceful lying there in her deep sleep, her features calm and pain-free. She could only hope that was the case at least. There was no way of knowing for sure, but none of the brain activity scans had suggested any discomfort. A small relief. Hermione deserved peace. 

Fleur gazed down at her wife and pushed a stray curl out of her face. Even after all these years she was convinced there was no one more perfect than her one true love. For a fleeting moment Fleur forgot where they were and why they were there, just appreciating her wife’s beauty and remembering the good times they had together. But then she registered the annoying beeping sound that she had become accustomed to and managed to block out most of the time.

Fleur felt the tears pricking at the corners of her eye as she sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully clasping the comatose woman’s hand, mindful of the various wires protruding from her delicate skin. She stroked her thumb across the paper-thin skin of her wife’s knuckles. The guilt was weighing heavily on her. It had been her choice to keep Hermione on life support for so long. She was just so desperate to try to find a cure. The chance to right her wrong, even if it had been an accident. 

She hadn’t known that there was a small shard of Bellatrix’s cursed dagger embedded deep in the Gryffindor’s arm when the Golden Trio crashed on the beach outside Shell Cottage. The Dark magic was lying dormant while she did everything she could to keep her girlfriend from knocking on Death’s door. She had done her best to heal Hermione with her limited resources and experience and was relieved that she had managed to stabilize her and pull her back from the brink. After weeks of healing, they thought the brunette had beaten the odds and had made a full recovery. There were no signs of lasting injury or complications, so they had no reason to suspect otherwise. So for years that cursed piece of metal was slowly leeching poison into her body.

At first they thought it was just a cold. But she hadn’t gotten any better, no matter how many potions she took. Being a stubborn woman, Hermione had insisted she was fine and continued to work, doing her best to put on a brave face and power through whatever ‘bug’ was ailing her. By the time they finally went to St. Mungo’s, they found out that it was too late. The damage was done and the Dark magic had taken root and was intertwined in her magical core. No amount of magic could stabilize her condition, as the Dark curse immediately rejected any attempt at magical healing. Only Muggle contraptions had been able to keep Hermione’s body intact while Fleur and the Healers searched for a cure or a way to reverse the effects of the curse. 

But it had been years without progress and Fleur knew that she couldn’t be selfish any longer. The time had come. 

Heart constricting, Fleur gently squeezed Hermione's hand as she leaned over and pressed her lips to her wife’s forehead, a hot tear slid unbidden down her cheek. "Je t'aimerai toujours, mon amour."

“Madame Delacour? Are you ready?” Fleur didn’t look up as the green-robed Healer entered the room.

Unable to speak and barely able to breathe, Fleur nodded slowly, clutching her free hand to her chest as she watched the doctor reach over and turn off the machine.

The steady beeping slowed to a single steady tone.

"November 3, 2006. Hermione Jean Delacour, time of death 13:01"


End file.
